


Shiver

by eyesofapanda



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:52:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofapanda/pseuds/eyesofapanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles get caught in the rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frotcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frotcake/gifts).



Rain was one of the first scents Derek had learned to recognise, that familiar earthy smell permeating his senses. It takes him back to his childhood, when Mom would herd them home in the middle of a run through the forest, her nose pointing to the sky.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Derek realises he's stopped, Stiles a few steps ahead and turned around to watch him with obvious confusion and concern.  
  
"Rain," Derek growls, and resumes his brisk walk.  
  
Stiles glances up at the grey clouds hiding the sky. "We're about to get very wet, aren't we?" he sighs, trudging after Derek.  
  
Derek doesn't respond, but inwardly he echoes Stiles' unimpressed sentiment. They've just finished helping a ghost 'cross over to the other side', and all Derek wants to do is sleep for a week.  
  
"I don't know why I come back here for spring break," Stiles is complaining in the background, huffed murmurs under his breath he knows full well Derek can hear. "You think I'd have learnt my lesson after last summer."  
  
"Not a word, Stiles," Derek says warningly, shooting him a look that radiates  _or I'll rip your throat out with my teeth_.  
  
Unfortunately, it's a familiar look on Derek now, and Stiles hasn't batted an eyelid at it for years. Fortunately, Stiles knows better than to bring up The Incident.  
  
"I could be in  _Rome_  right now, Derek," Stiles laments. Before Derek can tell him to 'shut the fuck up, man the fuck up, and walk the fuck faster', the first drop of rain hits his face.  
  
"Shit," Derek says, as the rain starts to fall thick and fast around them with no warning.  
  
Stiles groans. "The _fuck_. This is why we should've driven," he directs at Derek with a sneer.  
  
"Which would have freaked out the ghost, yes, excellent plan, Stiles." Derek continues stamping along the footpath despite the rain. The Hale house is only a ten-minute werewolf-run from here, but he's stuck with the burden that is Stiles Stilinski. They can't even call for a ride because no one else has returned to town yet.  
  
Both of them eventually fall silent, walking in sharp, quick strides side by side, but soon enough they're soaked to the bone. Derek doesn't notice Stiles' shivering for fifteen minutes of blessedly peaceful quiet - too focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and Stiles has been better at radiating calm since high school - until he realises Stiles isn't quiet because he's behaving himself, but because he's  _freezing_.  
  
" _Stiles_ ," Derek huffs exasperatedly, and halts their progress to take a good look at him. Stiles' T-shirt and jeans are clinging to his body - more so than usual; they've been tight enough since Lydia forced a wardrobe change on him before college (not that Derek's been cataloguing the increasing tightness of Stiles' clothes...) - and his hair, grown out since high school, is plastered over his head, rain running down his face and arms tucked by his sides.  
  
He looks beautiful, Derek can't help but think. Stiles has been beautiful ever since the day Derek realised he was no longer a boy.  
  
Stiles drags a hand through his hair, and it looks ridiculous. Derek can't help but stare, words lost in his throat. "Sorry, I can't help it," Stiles says through gritted teeth, shuffling his wet-through Converses in embarrassment and frustration.  
  
"Come on," Derek snaps, leading them towards the edge of the forest, off the trail. Stiles follows him unquestioningly, until they're deep enough that the rain falls through patches of leaves, but not directly onto their heads if they're pressed up against tree trunks. Stiles is still shivering, and Derek steps into his space, hands tugging on the edge of Stiles' T-shirt. "Off," he grunts, motioning for him to lift his arms.  
  
Stiles' eyes widen, but he doesn't hesitate to obey, letting Derek drag the piece of clothing off.  
  
It's not the first time Derek has seen Stiles' shirtless - he's seen his chest many times, has stared more than necessary before, at that sinewy muscle hiding under those layers - and yet Derek is staring again, at the way the water slides across Stiles' chest, those hard, dark nipples, down the hair that trails past the edge of his pants.  
  
When Derek drags his gaze up again, Stiles is looking down at him with heavily dilated eyes. He's panting, still shivering a little, and he licks the moisture off his lips slowly.  
  
It's not like Derek's never considered it before. The problem is that he's considered it too much.  
  
Stiles quirks a smile and boldly pushes his hand into Derek's wet hair. Derek forces his eyes to stay open, not letting them flutter shut at the arousing sensations, to watch the emotions dance on Stiles' usually guarded face.  
  
"Stop thinking, Derek," Stiles scolds, and with a firm grip on Derek's hair, drags him up so their mouths come together.  
  
The burst of pleasure ripples through Derek instantly, Stiles' mouth a beacon source of warmth combatting the uncomfortable wetness that are Derek's clothes. Stiles kisses him deep and fearlessly, and Derek's hands grapple for purchase, skimming every contour of Stiles' bare skin, savouring the wet smoothness and accompanying sounds Stiles makes.  
  
"Fucking  _finally_ ," Stiles gasps when Derek abandons his mouth to latch onto his neck. "I thought I'd have to wait forever, you asshole, can't _believe_  you--" He interrupts himself with a low groan as Derek's fingers caress the edge of his damp pants. "Not fair, Derek," he pants, and starts to yank off Derek's leather jacket. "Clothes. Off.  _Now._ "  
  
When Derek is as shirtless as Stiles, Stiles runs his hands reverently down Derek's body, spreading the rain into his skin. Derek bites back a moan, and Stiles grins.  
  
"You're not shivering anymore," Derek says softly as Stiles draws him back in.  
  
"Observant of you, wolf," Stiles snarks, and grinding his half-naked body against Derek's, makes out with him until long past the rainfall.


End file.
